


Oh, you make me feel (like I'm alive again)

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, MCU Kink Bingo, Multi, Polyamory, Reunited and It Feels So Good
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-22 21:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23933851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: After 15 years apart, Fitz gets reunited with Daisy and Jemma.
Relationships: Leo Fitz/Jemma Simmons/Skye | Daisy Johnson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 22
Collections: (I'll stop the world and) Melt with you {Romantic Fitzskimmons}, Florchis's MCU Kink Bingo





	Oh, you make me feel (like I'm alive again)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [everythinghappensforareason17](https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythinghappensforareason17/gifts).



“... and that’s exactly why you should absolutely tell _Tony_ about my business.”

Fitz represses the urge to roll his eyes at the first-name use of his boss by this wannabe entrepreneur, and gives him an absent-minded nod instead. It is not the first time such a thing has happened to him ever since he climbed high enough in the Stark Industries chain of command that his association could not stay a secret any longer, and it probably won’t be the last. He doesn’t like doing this whole networking thing and likes it even less when it is done _to_ him, but he tries to look at it as something that comes with the job. He could have a closet-like office or a clumsy lab partner, or a grope-prone boss- put it in perspective like that, this is not that bad.

Until he catches a glimpse of the reason why he is actually there- which is not a Stark reason at all, even if Tony will tease him good-naturedly to no end when he finds out-, and then the conversation turns to inane to absolutely unbearable.

“Why don’t you give me your card and I will get it to him?” he lies through his teeth, pockets the card hurriedly and makes a beeline for the next room.

The thing is, it is not like him to go to an alumni meeting of any kind. Ever. People who were part of his past are in the past for a reason-or several- and he is not built for the fake chit chat and badly concealed show off of wealth and success. 

Except for them.

He doesn’t even bother opening the e-mails for this kind of thing, but this time he also got it forwarded from Jemma, with a personal message, _Would you like to meet there to catch up a bit? Daisy already said yes! :)_

There is not a reason strong enough in this world to make him say no to her smiley faces.

He turns the corner and his eyes weren’t mistaken. He takes a second to catch his breath and admire their backs from afar, Daisy in burgundy pants and a white blouse, Jemma in a short electric blue dress, their arms linked at the elbows, their heads tilted to one another’s, Daisy’s lips curled in a smile so close to Jemma’s earlobe that is tantalizing even from a distance, even to Fitz.

He wonders for a second if Jemma knew she was placing him in front of a precipice when she contacted him. Ever since they all split up, their contact had been friendly but thinned quickly with each passing month to the point that after a year they were reduced to mere Facebook friends, as much as he abhors the notion. He can’t be sure that their relationship didn’t stand the pass of time either, but he would bet good money on it. 

But they were friendly when they all lived- and slept- together and the break of things was friendly too. How is he supposed to not be friendly with them now that they are standing in front of him after fifteen years of not seeing each other?

He steals a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, downs its contents quickly, and marches on. It is not enough liquid courage to push him to do something stupid, but enough to nudge him to do what he already wants to do. 

Once he gets closer, he notices that Jemma’s fingers are in a tight fist around the edge of her own dress, a clear telltale of her feelings about the situation, and that makes his own throat go dry. He has an instant of panic because he was too focused on wanting to get closer to them to think of what to say, but Daisy, her face still looming over Jemma’s neck, saves him the trouble.

“Hey, Fitzy. Long time no see.”

If watching them together was an earthquake on his nervous system, Daisy’s voice and smile directed at him are the eruption of a volcano that soaks his entire skin with flashes of feelings and memories. Jemma turns around, an excited look on her face and Fitz’s knees go weak. He never tried to fool himself into thinking he was over them: he knows he is not and never will be completely over them, but one thing is to think about them with a lukewarm tint of longing, and a different thing is to have them in the flesh and want to absorb them inside his veins. Ask them everything. Know everything. Not talk at all. Kiss them and don’t stop. Take them to bed. Never let them go.

Instead, he bites on his lower lip, his raspy voice fighting to come out against the dense ball of feelings, “Hey.”

Jemma leans over to kiss him on the cheek, and Fitz feels like the clock went back and he is nineteen again. Daisy gives him a wink, and Fitz follows the patent movement of her hand that searches again for Jemma’s hand, and strokes around a faint difference in coloration around her ring finger. 

“Jemma was just telling me that her divorce went through last month. We should go celebrate.”

It is a flood of information and he only manages to squeak out, “You got married?”

Jemma sends Daisy A Look, but Daisy only snickers at her. 

“Twice, in fact.” She makes a pause, licks her lips. “Didn’t you?”

Daisy raises a hand in between them to stop him from replying.

“Don’t answer that. I can’t have this conversation without alcohol.”

When recalling the moment, he won’t be able to say what was the source of his courage, but he has it all the same and gives Daisy a lopsided smile while he says, “How about any other kind of conversation?”, at the same time that Jemma says, “There is champagne over there”. 

Daisy gives him an impressed look.

“Champagne is not alcohol, Jemma, everyone knows that. Now chop chop, Fitz here is buying.”

He is too busy staring at the sway of her hips leaving to even complain.

* * *

Daisy lures them into a chic bar around the corner, and Fitz drums his fingers against the countertop of the booth table while the girls peruse the drink selection. Now that the excitement of seeing them again is starting to wear off, the panic is beginning to settle. Things didn’t end badly between them, but fifteen years and a lot of water under the bridge sit between that moment of parting ways amicably and now. He knows they are different people than the women he knew and loved because he is different himself. 

He has to remember that because the fact that they never meant to hurt each other doesn’t mean that he didn’t get hurt. He was in love with them, even if he played it casual and nonchalant, and he is not sure he can be close to them again without getting attached. He did grow up while they were apart, he made his life and had his ups and downs, both romantic and otherwise, but sometimes that only means he looks back to the past with a growing longing. And now the past caught up with him, and if things go badly this time he doesn’t know if he will be able to bear it. 

Daisy leaves to order their drinks, and Jemma turns to look at him with big-doe eyes, and it takes Fitz five seconds to realize that he has no say in this. The moment Jemma wrote him that email she sealed his fate, and there is no turning back; the only decision he can take now is to stay and enjoy the ride or don’t, and there is not an ounce of doubt about which one he is choosing.

And since he will always choose to stay and go with the flow when they are concerned, he reciprocates when Jemma tilts her shoulders towards him and smiles. 

“What has been of your life?” If anyone else asked him that question, it would piss him off. But he has said enough times this night alone that Jemma is… Jemma. Not at all like anyone else.

“Well, I got my second Ph.D., just so we could get equal.” Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he feels cheeky and flirty, which is something so very unusual for him. Of course, whatever he is trying to do while acting cocky is totally in vain because Jemma’s smile grows two sizes while she raises four fingers in the air. “Four…? What does that even m-? _No,”_ he whispers in disbelief and Jemma’s smile turns into honest-to-god laughter. “How are you even real?”

“Haven’t you heard? She isn’t.” Daisy hands out the drinks and squeezes in the booth next to Fitz. Her thigh is pressed against his, and he can feel her warmth permeating the thin cloth of his trousers. “What are we talking about?”

“Jemma’s _four_ Ph.D.s.”

Daisy rolls her eyes while she takes a sip of her rum and coke.

“Ugh, don’t even get me started. Four PhDs-”

“-and two marriages! It’s like she has lived enough lives for us all combined.”

Daisy stirs her drink lazily with her eyes fixed on the straw, and both his and Jemma’s eyes get drawn to her.

“Dunno, I went to jail in Singapore and almost eloped in Iceland. Life has not been that bad to me.”

Fitz can physically feel his jaw hanging open, but his brain only seems to be able to focus on one word on that whole statement. “...almost?”

“Oh, yes.” Daisy pushes her hair apart, looks him in the eyes while she takes the straw back in her mouth. “I was undercover, so it wouldn’t have been valid. But, you know. I am still counting it.”

Fitz already knew that while Jemma went the academic route, Daisy had gone down the intelligence one; she has the kind of skills governments would be dumb to not try to have on their side instead of against them. Still, he had always imagined her taking care of software setups and security issues: never like a _field agent._

“Fitz was telling me that he got his second Ph.D.,” Jemma chimes, gently guiding the topic back to the beginning. Fitz feels dizzy when he finally peels off his eyes from Daisy’s mouth to look back at her.

“Now you are just making me feel self-conscious,” he complains, his cheeks heating up. He takes a gulp from his beer just to try to hide his embarrassment. “I haven’t been doing exciting things like you lot.”

Daisy elbows him on the ribs while Jemma rolls her eyes. They always have been good at this, teaming up against him.

“Oh, right, because working for an _Avenger_ sounds so boring!”

It’s like time stops for a second after Jemma is done saying her jab, and Fitz can look at them both with full clarity. They are used to him being self depreciative, unsure of his own worth, always expecting to be dumped, abandoned, forgotten. They were invested- and got good with time- at getting him out of that funk, and since then he has learned a lot on his own about how to stop listening to the malicious voices in his head. He gotta stay sharp if he wants to prevent that being with them and the memory of an old Fitz they carry inside don’t turn _him_ back into the old Fitz. He understands they are not the same women that he loved: it doesn’t mean that he can’t learn to love them again for the women they are now. But, in return, he can not give them back the old Fitz: they can either accept him as he is now or leave him.

He is now better at understanding and reading social cues, and particularly flirting ones. He can see Jemma, her entire body tilted towards him, her fingers just an inch apart from his on the table, her open smile, and her bright eyes. He can see Daisy, all in his personal space, playing with her hair and trying to get a rise out of him with the straw. In the best-case scenario, they are in the same boat he is, a small reignition of feelings and sensations that once were, and a willingness to discover if they can still be. In the worst-case scenario, it’s just nostalgia, and he can also work with that.

Either way, they could stay and catch up. Fitz would love that and he knows they would, too. But they are also running high on just-met-again neurotransmitters, and he wants to capitalize on that. They can always talk later; take advantage of the fact that they are all thirsty for each other after fifteen years? Not so much.

“Excuse me, ladies, I need to make a call.”

He wakes up from his seat, and acting bolder than he ever thought himself capable of, he pretends to be searching for his phone in his pocket and uses the opportunity to stroke Daisy’s knees in passing. He looks directly in her eyes while he does it, and the way her eyes fire up tells Fitz his intentions have not been misinterpreted.

The few minutes he has to wait near the bathroom feel like an eternity. Luckily there is no one on the bathroom corridor to make him feel more self-conscious than he already is. He hasn’t done something like this in a while and never had much of an opportunity to do it when he was younger. He is not nervous, not exactly- he has a lot to gain and very little to lose- but his blood is boiling, and how did they manage to get him so worked up with just flirty smiles and bedroom eyes?

There is a joke in the tip of his tongue when Daisy shows up exactly two minutes after him. He doesn’t even get to say it: she pushes him against the wall and kisses him, forceful and passionate. It is not a kiss like the ones he remembers getting from her, but it suits her and that is good. She is dominant but in a teasing way, and Fitz- that would have relinquished power in any other circumstance- doesn’t fight her but instead matches her pace. It is going from one to one hundred in two seconds flat, and he feels dizzy with the shock; the fact that this is her only makes it sweeter. 

Daisy rests her face in the crook of his neck after they break apart, and it’s good to see that she is just as affected as he is by this. He cradles her cheek in his palm, and her skin doesn’t feel the same- she is taking better care of it now than when they were twenty-somethings, he would say-, but her sigh is pretty much like the ones he knew, and that is great.

“What about Jemma?” he asks after catching his breath.

“Jemma can not believe you thought it was okay to left her out of the fun,” Jemma rebukes from his left, and he is so happy he could sing. Except not, because he is awful, but the feeling still stands.

“Like Daisy didn’t tell you,” he accuses back, and watching her features change from the fake scowl to a smile is a gift in and on itself.

“I got the check,” she says, and Fitz wants her to get close, wants to dip his fingers in her hair, and wants to feel the contrast between her shiny dress and her smooth skin. It’s good that she doesn’t, though, because they are in public and with Daisy already in his arms he is not sure he could keep his cool. Instead, Jemma turns around and looks back over her shoulder at them, and Fitz could die. “Aren’t you two going to take me back to a hotel?”

* * *

The taxi ride is an odyssey on trying to keep their hands to themselves- not in vain he gave the address of his own hotel, that is the closest one. The girls, acting drunker than they actually are, get away with a lot, grabby hands and kissy lips. The driver tries to give him a significant look more than once, but Fitz avoids eye contact at all costs. It’s not that he cares about what everyone else sees or thinks, but as far as he knows this is a night frozen in time and only for the three of them to share and to cherish.

He kisses Jemma in the elevator; she tastes like the sweet drink she had at the bar, and Daisy makes obscene noises behind them while she watches them with hungry eyes. Once they are in front of the door, he can’t find his card with Jemma’s hands roaming all over his body, and Daisy has to take it out of his pocket, not without a snarky comment that he doesn’t quite hear with all the rumbling in his ears.

Once they are inside, he tells them to get comfortable and goes to pour drinks for them all. He doesn’t want any of them to get any drunker than they are, but he needs a moment to himself, to calm down the beating of his heart and catch some air. The last hour is a breeze in his mind, a fuzzy string of memories from the bar to the hotel. He couldn’t be happier about how things have progressed, but as much as he is sure about what he wants and he chooses to believe they both are too, he still has to tread lightly. It isn’t true that things didn’t end badly between them the first time around, but it is no less true that they ended nonetheless.

When he comes back with two bottles of water, three glasses and a bottle of red wine- he couldn’t focus enough to prepare anything himself-, he finds them laying on the bed, fully clothed, talking quietly. It is comforting to see that they might need or want the same respite as him. He leaves the drinks on one of the bedside tables, kicks off his shoes and crawls on the bed next to Daisy. 

“What do you want, Fitz?” Jemma is, of course, the one to ask, and Daisy snorts. 

“Jesus, Jem, give the man a break.”

“What? Honesty keeps friendships healthy.”

It is clear to him they have talked beforehand, and they are both quite clear on what they expect. But the question is not hard for him He can only give the same answer he would have given fifteen years ago. 

“You. I want you both.” He makes a pause while Daisy and Jemma exchange a look. There is something they are not telling him, he knows. He could obsess over it, but they are all adults now, and the two of them are also entitled to their secrets and their own intimacy. “What do _you_ want?”

He doesn’t get a reply, not exactly, but what they do give him is good enough for him. It is hard for him to decipher what they are thinking, unlike how connected they once had been, but he is asking truthfully and he has to believe they are paying him the same courtesy. 

“We are here, aren’t we?” Daisy whispers with hooded eyes, while Jemma raises her head to look at him and say, “We missed you so much, Fitz.”

When Daisy kisses him, it is not the same as before. There is heat, of course, with her straddling his lap, but the intense urgency is gone. He now knows they want this, and he can keep them for longer than one hour. He can kiss her to his heart satisfaction, stroking her hips, and exploring all the ways in which she kisses differently, relishing all the ways in which she kisses the same. He can even feel the intensity of Jemma’s gaze on them.

“I missed you too,” he mumbles from against Daisy’s lips, and when Daisy smiles, he almost feels twenty-two again: unhinged and raw from the desperate way he wants them. When Jemma starts unbuttoning his shirt, he stops her gently. “Let’s just… go slow, okay? It has been a while.” 

He doesn’t volunteer more information than that; they don’t need to know that he is not talking about sex in general, but about the intensity of feeling this much while having sex. He needs to keep his heart cool- not aloof, but he can not think of this moment as the unavoidable turn into the past: he has to remember that this could be a new beginning, but it would never be a pick-up-where-we-left-it. He has to remember to appreciate this for what it is in the here and now, and not start having regrets in advance for what it won’t be.

Watching them helps him center himself: the way Jemma unbuttons with deft fingers Daisy’s blouse, Daisy’s dark lipstick leaving a trail on the marble skin of Jemma’s neck. They are having fun with each other, and that has always been so important to him: the fact that they don’t need him but want him the same. Daisy’s still sitting on his lap, and the slight back and forth of her kissing Jemma is making sure that his erection stands to attention. The strongest erogenous organ is the brain either way, and he couldn't not be turned on with them like this.

“How slow is slow, Fitz?” Jemma asks, already fingering the straps of Daisy’s bra, and Fitz loses the track of his thoughts for a second.

“Go as fast as you want, love.” It might be a little too soon to go for the pet names, but her eyes darken and a choked, broken sound comes out of Daisy’s mouth. Time has passed, that can not be denied, but he could never act like he doesn’t know how to tune them both like fine instruments. “I just need a minute for myself.”

“Take all the time you need, champ,” Daisy smiles at him while Jemma dips her head in her cleavage. “And if by a minute you mean a hand, you only have to ask. ” Daisy has always been the more salacious one between the three of them, but while before Jemma would have been all but scandalized, now she only snorts while lapping at one of Daisy’s nipples. 

For some reason, that is the last straw for him: there are a lot of ways in which they are all the same, and he loves them all, but there are also a lot of ways in which they have changed, and he wants to discover them, understand them, weaponize them. He moves a hand to Daisy’s back and deftly unhooks her bra: Jemma’s next movement makes it fall off, and she giggles, full of glee.

“Oops?” She winks at him, and he returns the wink pretending that Daisy is not looking at them. “Looks like I had a helping hand.”

“Get on with it, you two,” Daisy demands, and her voice is a lot hoarser than two minutes ago. “You are driving me insane.”

“Patience, Daisy,” he admonishes her, and he is finding his footing again in this affair; if he can keep control of the situation physically, he feels that somehow he will be able to control best how it affects him emotionally too.”We are going slow, remember? We haven’t even taken off one of Jemma’s clothes yet.”

“That’s because she is only wearing that tiny dress to drive us insane,” Daisy scoffs, and when Fitz turns to look at her, Jemma starts to redden. 

So Daisy is not lying. Fitz wonders if Jemma confessed in a heated moment of the night, or if maybe they have planned this moment together. Maybe they talked beforehand, they came tonight with full intentions of taking him to bed. He doesn’t know which option he finds hotter: the preparation or them being overtaken by the reunion. 

“Is that so, Jemma? You are wearing this for us?” He sideyes Daisy, and it is amazing how she still can get behind what he wants so quickly. By the time Jemma starts suspecting they are onto something, Daisy has moved away from his lap to hold her head on her lap and her hands against the mattress, while Fitz presses her down with the weight of his body. “What were you hoping would happen?”

The charge in the air changes after that. It stops feeling too much like a blast into the past and more like a moment he is actually living and enjoying, something that he can control. Maybe later, when he is more settled in the whirlwind that has been the last couple of hours, he will be able to yield to them, allow them to own the moment and him too. For now, this is enough.

Jemma is not even putting a facade of revolting against them, and the rising and falling of her chest are slow enough to let him know that she is okay with the whole reversal of positions. She licks her lips, and Fitz knows right then that he is too far gone for pretensions.

“I was hoping you were available,” she begins, slow and teasing.

“You are not that open in social media,” Daisy chimes in, and they have definitely talked about him beforehand. It makes the arousal stir hotter in his gut.

“I was hoping that you still would find us attractive,” Jemma continues, unfaced by Daisy’s intervention. “I was hoping that you would like the dress enough to want to take it off me.”

It is a line, he is well aware of that, but lines are lines for a reason, and this one is not an exception. Of course, knowing it is a line also helps him know how to better react to it.

He looks at Daisy and he feels instantly dizzy: she is looking at him with hooded, devilish eyes, and her bare chest is begging for him to touch her. He powers through, and fakes disinterest while he asks her, “Do you think she deserves that, Daisy?”

“I don’t,” Daisy replies quickly, sharp as a knife, and she waits till Jemma starts complaining to continue, “But I think we are going to do it anyway, aren’t we?”

He places a finger on top of Jemma’s lips to silence her. “Oh, of course we are. Just wanted us to be on the same page.”

He leans over Jemma to kiss her. It has always been nice to kiss Jemma when her hands are being restrained; she makes up for the lack of them with a ton of determination and thoroughness. There is an aftertaste of sweet alcohol and lipstick in his mouth and the sounds she makes against his lips are enough to remind him that he is very much pressed against her body from mid-torso to his pelvis. She is moving her hips in rotating circles, not at all subtle but very effective, and that’s such a Jemma thing: to find just another way to drive him crazy when she has been deprived of one.

Fitz moves off her body after the kiss: if he wants things to go slow, he can not have Jemma rubbing against his cock. Instead, he sits down next to Daisy and runs circles around one of her nipples with his thumb.

“How am I supposed to focus on anything when you are here like this?” he whispers with his eyes fixed on his moving thumb.

“Maybe you are not.”

It takes him two seconds to understand that if Daisy is holding onto his wrist, that means she has let go of Jemma, and two seconds more to understand that he has been utterly played. He must have been lost in Daisy longer than he realized because when Jemma presses her chest against his back, she is definitely naked. Now there is two pair of naked breasts in the room, how is he supposed to keep his composure with that knowledge? 

"Have I been played this whole time?”

Daisy leans over to peck him while she takes off his shirt and starts undoing his belt. He shivers under Jemma’s perpetual freezing hands.

“Sorry, babe. Sisters before misters.”

Jemma can’t keep herself from laughing while Fitz looks at Daisy in disbelief.

“You did not just call Jemma your sister.”

Daisy makes a vague gesture upwards. “Semantics.”

It is amazing how they could fall so easily into old behaviors and patterns. He circles Daisy’s waist with his arms and presses her close against him. God, he had missed this. Boobs and teasing and flirting are all great, but the sensation of their naked skin against his? That is something that could never be topped. Her arms are stretching pass his side to hold onto Jemma’s hips, and if he doesn’t keep himself under control he is going to start tearing up, and that would be a shame when they are all half-naked already. 

“You don’t change, do you?” he murmurs against her neck and he can feel Jemma snickering against his scapula.

“I might have picked up one or two new tricks along the way, though.” Daisy is moving one arm up and down, and he can imagine her stroking Jemma’s side, he can feel Jemma shivering against his back. It’s disarming, to have them this close and to feel everything they feel. It is humbling and at the same time infuriatingly arousing. “Want me to show you?”

He doesn’t even have to say yes.

* * *

When he wakes up the next morning, Daisy is sprawled all over his chest but Jemma is nowhere to be found. He panics for a second- now that it's morning he can jump right back into panic-mode instead of the chill version of himself he tried to be yesterday-, but relaxes instantly when he sees that her pumps are still near the door. He kisses the tip of Daisy’s nose and pushes her hair behind her ears, but she doesn’t make any sign of waking up, so he snakes away from her to let her catch some extra sleep. Who knows what kind of crazy schedule she keeps on a regular basis.

He enters some commands to request breakfast on the room service panel and puts on his really wrinkly shirt and his underpants. He wishes he had taken into consideration that this could happen in order to bring a fresh set of clothes, but maybe it’s better this way: he is not sure he could have handled well the anticipation. He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and the steamy mirror tells him that Jemma must just have gotten out of the shower.

He finds her out on the balcony, wearing only Daisy's blouse, the soft dawn light making her eyes look like liquid gold, and he has never seen anything so precious in his entire life. The moment she sees him she moves away to allow him more space on the seat, and she cuddles on his chest the second he sits down. A million questions are still waiting on the tip of his tongue, but the way she is acting like everything is again so natural and easy between them makes a lot of the anxiety in his stomach uncoil. They sit in comfortable silence for a handful of minutes until Jemma stretches her arms in the air. 

“I kept up with your work, you know.”

It is a non-sequitur, but what in the last twelve hours hasn’t been a non-sequitur between them? After almost fifteen years of radio silence, they have jumped into his life like virtually no time has passed at all, and Fitz knows that, eventually, the issues will start to arise, but for now, he is content with enjoying the first rush of happiness again.

“Of course. Was it because you were planning on this?” He hopes he says it in a light enough tone of voice that she can understand she is being teased, and the low chuckle against his chest tells him that she gets it. 

“Of course not. That I appreciate the genius of your mind doesn't necessarily correlate at all with me wanting to take you to bed.”

“Of course.”

He closes his eyes, lets the silence settle. He is here, they are here and for now, that can be enough.

“Fitz?”

“Uhm?”

“I do want to take you to bed, though.”

He hides his smile against her hair, his heart full. There is nothing that could make him happier at this moment, except maybe-

“Are you two going to come in for breakfast or what? You know I can’t adult until I have had at least one cup of coffee.” Daisy’s voice comes from inside the bedroom, and Jemma trots inside, hugs her, spins her and kisses her before he can even get up.

They must take things slow, no doubt about that, but that they will go slow doesn’t mean that this can not go places.

**Author's Note:**

> This fills the "Free Square" in my [ MCU Kink Bingo Card.](https://florchis.tumblr.com/post/611271088493805568/here-is-my-mcu-kink-bingo-card-currently) And the "Go slow" square in my [Marvel Polyship Bingo Card.](https://florchis.tumblr.com/post/189650837251/currently-taking-prompts-for-this-just-remember)  
> I'm accepting prompts for the last one on[ my Tumblr](http://florchis.tumblr.com/ask) or here!  
> *  
> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
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> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



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